


Citrus

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Food Kink, Harkstiel, M/M, Oral Sex, Superwho, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission to an isolated mountain town, Captain Jack Harkness was bound to get painfully bored sooner or later. Boredom for Jack leads to mischief, especially when paired with Castiel's sheer cussedness. Or, as he'd prefer to call it, 'focus and determination.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citrus

"Best. Stakeout. Ever," Jack groaned happily, muffled by the back of Castiel's bare shoulder. Nothing to do but watch a box of Denobian firebird eggs, drink expensive wine, and have sex in a snow-covered cabin in the Swiss Alps. His team hacked the email account of an alien artifact dealer earlier that month, and they'd been monitoring her exploits ever since. She was savvy about her product, smart enough to see the lucrative potential of fencing stolen goods but _not_ smart enough to consider the trouble that a dangerous side business would bring to her door. She had deeply entrenched habits and assumed her wealth would protect her - which was why Jack had ghosted her hard drive and phone and had her complete itinerary by now.

The targets were rarely this easy. Jack and Castiel had contingency plans in case it proved to be more complicated. In the meantime? Wine, song, and sex on a fluffy faux caribou rug in front of the fireplace. And on the kitchen counter, in the dual-head shower, and against the chilly bay window. Hey, they didn't get vacations in this line of work. A long weekend in the Alps was always accompanied by some kind of alien shenanigans. Oh, those aliens and their shenanigans.

"How's our firebirds?" Castiel asked, pressing back into Jack's chest. There was a sharp slide of metal on the counter as he put down the knife he'd been using to slice a lemon. Jack caught a whiff of citrus as Castiel gathered up the sunny circles and deposited them in a pot on the stove.

Jack smiled. "Still hiding in their little asbestos-lined shells. Nothing from the Princess, either." It wasn't a diminutive term - at least not on Jack's part. Their target signed her emails "The Princess." He couldn't tell if it was pretension, smokescreen, or a bit of both. He knew her real name, but didn't use it. The title was the persona she wore while on the job - the persona they'd be interacting with. It had just enough anonymity to keep him from getting too cozy. Plus it just plain amused him.

"Maybe it's the weather," Castiel said. His back arched a little as Jack breathed on his neck, "At this rate, the only thing moving in this snow will be reindeer and dog sleds." He groped for an orange that rolled away from the cutting board, clearly reluctant to move away. He made a frustrated noise, and Jack laughed.

Helpfully, Jack reeled the rogue citrus fruit back in, and put it in Castiel's hand. As a reward for being a good samaritan, Jack let his palms smooth down the soft skin of Castiel's belly. They dipped lower, under the waistband of his drawstring pants, and all the breath whooshed out of Castiel at once. He started to put down the orange. Jack kissed his neck and whispered, "Don't stop on my account," with just a little amusement and challenge for good measure. It might have been the first time Jack ever gave someone a handjob while they tried to peel an orange in one unbroken rind. If anyone was up for the task, however, it was certainly someone with Castiel's laser focus and multitasking skill.

Jack cupped the warm, twinned weight of Castiel's balls, thumb rubbing circles, gently moving them inside the loose skin until a deep, rough groan bubbled in the angel's chest. Out of sight, Jack could hear the zip of orange rind coming free; feel Castiel's muscles working against his cheek and smell the juicy orange and fragrant rind. He smiled into his lover's skin, a little more wicked this time as he squeezed, rolled, and tugged. He couldn't see what he touched, but he knew Castiel's body, knew how his skin smelled, how the dark curls in Castiel's groin tickled his lips and cheek. Warmth pooled in Jack's belly now, and his mouth opened against Castiel's neck as his hips ground lightly forward.

A slow, low noise curled over the air, like the rumble of thunder or the strum of a bass guitar. It was Castiel, his body vibrating against Jack's as he groaned with pleasure. And the orange kept ripping, slipping out of its rind with a soft organic zip. Jack almost laughed, but the sound puffed out of him as an "Oh-h-h-h," instead. Castiel shivered under him; under his breath spilling on the angel's neck and his fingertips stroking lightly now down the rapidly stiffening length of Castiel's cock.

"I'm finished, Jack," Castiel breathed.

Jack grinned darkly into his hair. "You've still gotta stud that thing with cloves, stud," he reminded, unable to resist the word as it wandered up out of his memory. A little plan came to him, and he slipped his hands out of Castiel's pants. "Got everything you need?"

Castiel eyed him. The blue eyes crinkled at the edges, like he couldn't figure out if this was a legitimate question or a strange, sideways come-on (with Jack it was always a tossup, even he admitted that). His expression creased in consternation as Jack took a knee, slotting himself between the counter and Castiel's hips. "Carry on, soldier," Jack commanded, and tugged the drawstring pants to the floor.

"Oh," Castiel murmured, and then the syllable shuddered, hitching at the tail as Jack licked the head of Castiel's dick into his mouth. A full-on moan slid out of him next, but truth be told, Jack couldn't tell if it was him or Castiel. The dusky scent hit him, warm and promising, heady with sex and desire. Castiel was heavy in his mouth, full, stretching his jaw. The angle pushed him up against the roof of Jack's mouth, which Castiel seemed to like quite a bit - judging from the hisses and sighs. He turned into a responsive little sound machine, tight and strained as he struggled to - yes - poke cloves into a damned orange rind.

Maybe it was a personal challenge. Maybe he thought it Meant Something, to follow an order when the rest of him just wanted to lie back and enjoy an uncomplicated fuck. Jack didn't know. What he _did_ know, however, was that it was hot as hell to listen to Castiel fight for self control with Jack's mouth on him, begging the exact opposite. He took Castiel deeper, and ran his nails down the insides of Castiel's thighs.

A loud bang vibrated the counter above Jack's head as Castiel's palms slammed into it. The task momentarily forgotten, he braced himself and pushed blindly into Jack's mouth. The angel was losing it, losing it like a _champ_ , and Jack would have chuckled if there wasn't a thick, slick length of cock keeping his mouth otherwise occupied. He hummed encouragement and reached up, pulling at the base of Castiel's cock in lazy pumps while he sucked at the tip, drawing it back in each time it slipped out in a sleek rhythm. Castiel's hands found his hair, tangling and tugging in time to the roll of his hips. His whole focus was on Jack, bright and hot as the sun, and Jack's name dropped from Castiel's lips over and over in a soft litany.

Jack pushed them faster, arousal pooling golden and hot in his belly as the desperation peaked in Castiel's voice. There was nothing elegant in this, in the impatient thrust of an angel's hips and the wet sounds of Jack's spit-slick lips around his cock. In a heartbeat the whole works had crumbled down to nothing but hunger and animal passion and Jack was hard, aching for a finish himself. 

They were close, both of them. Jack didn't dare let go long enough to say a word, but he growled around Castiel's cock. After a moment of shocked silence, Castiel snarled back. His hands left Jack's hair, slamming back down on the counter, and Jack heard the polished wood squeak in distress as Castiel gripped the edge. He couldn't seem to form words, and the big open-mouthed cries richocheted all over the kitchen like gunshots.

He arched his back and seemed to hang on the edge, all of him shivering, until at last he tumbled over into orgasm. Jack swallowed what he could and shrugged at what he couldn't, welcoming Castiel down as the angel collapsed in a panting heap beside him.

Jack swept one hand over his wet and tender lips, laughing at the spit that had drooled down his chin. Couple animals tonight, both of them. He rubbed his jaw.

"That was impressive," Castiel muttered, chest heaving, "and I managed to stud most of that peel."

The words were so incongruous with the situation that Jack laughed, all over again. "Anything else left to do?"

Castiel's eyes flicked up as he mentally checked off the list. "Pour in the wine and let it heat. It'll be ready in a few hours."

Slowly, Jack reached for one of Castiel's hands. His palm was marked with bars of red, from where he'd been clutching the countertop. Jack brought the slim, artistic fingers down to rest on the hard ridge of his cock.

"Something tells me that time's gonna _fly_ by," Jack said.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my favorite recipe for mulling drinks. If you need more exact directions, there's lots out there, for mulling all sorts of different kinds of drinks. This recipe is for red wine, or non-alcoholic cider. I love making both for friends.
> 
>  
> 
> **YOU NEED:**
> 
>   * Cheesecloth, or you can use coffee filters, but you'll probably have to divide the mulling spices between several. I have a big metal mulling ball - it's like a tea ball on steroids. Kind of looks like a medieval torture device.
>   * Large stewpot or large crockpot
>   * Butcher's string, or undyed cotton string
>   * Whole cloves (12 or so, add as many as you like for that clove-y goodness)
>   * 1 tablespoon whole black peppercorns
>   * 3 cinnamon sticks
>   * Other spices that seem like they'd belong in a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte - like Allspice and Star Anise. Go for whole spices, not ground - ground spices will make the last sips of your drink gritty. Ain't nobody got time for that.
>   * 2 large oranges (keep peels as whole as possible)
>   * 2 large lemons (same deal)
>   * 3/4 cup honey OR brown sugar
>   * 2 (750-ml) bottles red wine of your choice (I prefer avoiding the dryer reds) OR 1 gallon of non-alcoholic apple cider
> 

> 
> **INSTRUCTIONS:**  
>  Peel those lemons and oranges! Keep the peels as whole as you can, you'll thank me later, plus it shows what a god you are with a paring knife. Or you can ask the peeling god in your life to do it for you. If you don't have a peeling god in your life, half this recipe and drink it alone in the dark crying over Alton Brown _Good Eats_ reruns.
> 
> Once your peels are peeled, time to break out your arts and crafts skills. Grab your little Tones cylinder full of whole cloves and poke the stabbity ends of the cloves into your peels. Do this until you've used up however many cloves you counted out (you and your head math, sheesh), or until your fingers hurt so badly that you're sobbing for the pain to end. The reason we do this is to increase the surface area of the rinds for the wine to sneak in, to break the little oil pods in the skin of the fruit, and because I'm a cruel and fickle mistress.
> 
> Now, use whatever container you've designated to be your Holder of All The Things - cheesecloth, mulling ball, or coffee filter (which is really Holder of Only Some of the Things, you may need a few) - and start packing in your goodies: peppercorns, cinnamon sticks, and those studly orange and lemon rinds. If you used cheesecloth or filters, tie that shit off with your string. If you used a mulling ball, snap that shit shut like the spicy bear trap it is.
> 
> Pour your wine or cider into your stewpot or crockpot. Time for your Holder of All The Things to make splashdown (only try not to splash, red wine stains are a bitch), then turn your Designated Cooking Utensil on low heat and cover. If you're using a crockpot, congrats - you can now go mainline a few episodes of _Once Upon a Time_. If you're using a stewpot, you'll need to adjust your heat to the lowest setting, and check on it periodically.
> 
> A couple hours will Do The Thing. Taste it to see if it tastes decent to you. If it does, pull the Holder of All The Things out of your magnificent masterpiece, and stir in your honey or brown sugar until it's dissolved. Taste again. _Carefully,_ it's gonna be hot.
> 
> Serve The Thing! Use a ladle and dip it out of your Designated Cooking Utensil. Makes about 10 servings, depending on your idea of what constitutes a glass. Your beautiful mulled concoction will be very hot, so be careful.
> 
> If you're taking this to a party, I recommend letting it cook ahead of time - and do it early enough to LET THAT SHIT COOL. You don't want to try ladling smoking hot wine into a plastic gallon jug. You just don't. Trust me.


End file.
